


It's a circus not a love story

by Azad_Gadin



Series: Are we out of the woods yet? [2]
Category: Mr. Robot (TV)
Genre: But Mostly Smut, Elliot and Leon are in love, Established Relationship, Everyone is high, Hurt/Comfort, Jealousy, Lots of drama, M/M, Main ship in this is Tyrobot, Mr Robot is left out, Porn with Feelings, Some Angsty Shit, Tyrell wants to join in on the fun, but a little bit of everything
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-13
Updated: 2020-08-14
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:13:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25871149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Azad_Gadin/pseuds/Azad_Gadin
Summary: Elliot and Leon have their own happy little bubble, and Tyrell wants in. Will it be as magical as he imagines? What mysteries will he uncover? And how does Mr Robot feel about being excluded?
Relationships: Elliot Alderson/Leon, Elliot Alderson/Tyrell Wellick, Elliot Alderson/Tyrell Wellick/Leon, Mr. Robot/Tyrell Wellick, Tyrell Wellick/Leon
Series: Are we out of the woods yet? [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1875766
Comments: 2
Kudos: 21





	1. Daring

**Author's Note:**

> Who would've thought writing the logistics of a threesome could be so complicated!  
> Mr Robot did not make an appearance in this one but I promise he will be back. Stay tuned for some serious angst

Tyrell regards his surroundings suspiciously. He is not sure what he expected since it’s pretty clear Leon is not the settle down type and his job requires the absence of roots by nature. Then again, home is where the heart is or whatever they say and considering this they should both feel more than rooted in the smoke filled, sparsely decorated motel room. The biggest item of furniture is a king sized (is that what they call it? It’s a huge fucking bed okay) bed set against the middle of the wall on which Leon and Elliot are currently positioned, presenting a tangle of limbs, and passing hazy smoke between each other.

He shouldn’t feel out of place here. Leon has stayed over at their place so many times at this point, they had spent countless movie nights together, he trusted the man with his son for fucks sake.

Not to mention, Elliot is here, he should feel at ease and welcomed, but it is not _his_ Elliot and Mr Robot has warned him so many times about this…

“You just gonna stand there, cuz, or are you joining us?”

Tyrell swallows and walks up to them, his steps slow and heavy like he is in a dream.

“Sorry, I… am just a little nervous.”

“Nothing a little grass can’t fix” Leon makes it sound easy as he passes him the joint and scoots to make room. “Besides, there’s nothing to be worried about. We don’t bite – unless you’re into that shit.”

Elliot joins him in his laughter and Tyrell once again is left to wonder why nothing _he_ ever does draws this response out of him, although truthfully, he already knows by the dreamy stare Elliot doesn’t even notice he is regarding Leon with.

He is in love and he is loved, therefore, he is at ease, therefore, he will laugh if only to show he is happy, to show appreciation for the man that brings happiness to him in a world otherwise flooded with shit.

“You’re gonna pass that anytime soon?”

The contrast in Elliot’s tone is unmistakable, dry, and borderline cruel in its indifference to Tyrell, whom, the other feels compelled to remind everyone, he _lives_ with and is raising a child together, in case that even matters.

He passes the joint wordlessly.

“So, Elli tells me there is an ulterior motif to you joining us today.”

Elliot scoffs and Leon pinches his cheek. “Be nice, El, we all about acceptance here. That mean shit is not a good look on you”

The expression on Elliot’s face softens and he moves away from Leon, gesturing to the now open space between the two of them.

“My bad. You don’t have to sit over there all by yourself. We both know what you’re here for, nobody’s gonna shame you for that. And besides, he doesn’t ever come out with us anyway, if you’re worried about that.”

Tyrell’s stomach flutters, because of course he is worried, but he is also grateful and excited and downright giddy when Elliot greets him with a soft peck on the cheek and now he is close enough to smell Leon’s intoxicating smell, that indescribable mixture of smoke, weed, mint, cologne and pure, yet never arrogant, confidence.

He takes another hit and waits.

Sure enough, the man on his left is quick to break the silence, his mission to preserve balance and a comfortable atmosphere. And since Tyrell is now part of that atmosphere, he gets included, simple as that.

No wonder Elliot is crazy for him. He is like the opposite of a school bully, but beyond cooler than any of the popular kids could ever dream to be.

How did any of them get so lucky.

“Damn, El, you don’t take care of your man _at all._ How is he still so tightly wound after we smoked all this weed?!”

Tyrell looks guilty. Elliot just shrugs and lights another joint.

“You need something stronger. Get over here.” In one elegant motion Leon has Tyrell on his lap, pressed to his chest and gets to work on massaging his neck with one hand, using enough force to make it less of a massage and more of _something else._

“Heard you like sucking dick. Heard you pretty good at it, too. And hey, everything can be a relaxing activity if you let it. Meditation is not bound to a single praxis, it’s all about how you approach it.”

Tyrell is a whimpering mess by then, shaken to the core by the touch and the other’s matter of fact, non-judgmental tone and definitely by the fingers that stroke his face, stopping right by his lips at last.

The grip on his throat tightens. It doesn’t feel like enough.

“So, about those dicksucking abilities…care to demonstrate?”

Tyrell feels insulted he even asks, his lips parting for the two fingers on instinct, sucking dutifully.

Suddenly, he is released and finds himself disoriented at the loss of contact.

His cheeks feel flushed and his dick is oozing precum. It is so hot in this room. He doesn’t dare look but is certain that Elliot behind him is watching intently. Does he know what comes next?

But this is not Mr Robot he is dealing with, the one who keeps him guessing, toys with him, makes him beg and plead.

Leon is straightforward, about to just give him what he wants, motivated not by sadistic nature but simply by mutual pleasure and companionship.

Tyrell does not quite feel deserving, but fuck it, he is desperate and giddy for it.

“Can I suck you off?” His tone is even, mollified by the weed and the fact that he already knows what the answer will be.

“ _Yeah_ , you can suck me off. Take your time with it, be present in the moment”

Tyrell’s dick gets even harder as he hears the confirmation, and it becomes downright painful when Leon grabs his neck with both hands and kisses him, licks into his mouth, takes his breath away on so many fronts until he is released and positions himself at the other’s crotch, inhaling the pheromones, making himself dizzy on them in a way that all the drugs in the world couldn’t have achieved.

Leon was right. This was stronger.

He takes his time pulling down fabric, licking his way up and down, playing with speed and pressure, reassured, and guided by Leon’s low grunts and the knowledge that he is, indeed, pretty fucking good at this.

It is a whimper from his left that darts him out of the meditative state he is actually, finally achieving.

A low sound strained with need.

Elliot?

Tyrell tries to move his head instinctively but is held firmly in place by strong hands.

“You gotta chill, cuz, you’ll get yours, don’t worry. Let the man enjoy himself. He is in the _zone.”_

Judging by the shift in weight on the bed, Elliot has repositioned himself to sit next to Leon and a quick glance upwards confirms this for Tyrell, who has resumed his work and is rewarded by the hands, no longer bothered with holding him still, instead wandering to his shoulders and the back of his neck, now earnestly massaging the knots there with light pressure.

Elliot has let his head slump against Leon’s shoulder, keeping a watchful gaze on their third companion’s activities.

When he locks eyes with Tyrell, it finally becomes clear what is happening.

Elliot is not just consumed with arousal; he is consumed with arousal for Tyrell.

The moan that escapes him at that realization triggers a domino effect of Leon cursing from the pleasure of the sudden vibration, his right hand that had just come to rest on Elliot’s crotch tightening its grip involuntarily, sending waves of pleasure and need through his body.

Stakes were high if they still wanted things to happen between Tyrell and Elliot, which the former is now sure had been planned from the beginning. Under Leon’s low growls as indication that he is close, Tyrell picks up a rhythm, assisting the process by massaging the other’s balls and eventually swallowing around him for the longest time.

He feels himself drowning, literally and figuratively until he is pulled up back against Leon’s chest, both of them sweaty and panting.

“That was a master show if I ever seen one. You know, it really hits different when the persons actually _enjoying_ it. A plus work there, cuz. Ten out of ten would recommend.”

Tyrell giggles and rubs his cheek on Leon’s chest, again that giddiness, that flutter, a wholly different kind of high.

Then, he locks eyes with Elliot. For a moment he is taken aback by the sheer want reflected in those eyes and instinctively he starts to move so he can let him get to Leon, but the next words stop him dead in his track.

“Do you wanna fuck me?”

There is really only a split second for a decision to be made, to contemplate what this will mean, to fuck this body that is the same body of the man he loves out of whose mouth those words would never, ever come. Yet it was that same mouth asking him now, wasn’t it? That mouth, which had never even given him a blowjob…

“I do.” He wastes no more time, decision made, shoves Mr Robot aside in his mind, two other people here with him is more than enough, thank you very much and either way, when somebody asks you a question like that, in a tone like that, you would need a far better reason not to comply.

He hurls himself off of Leon, who has already helpfully supplied a bottle of lube he conjured seemingly out of nowhere and is now leaning back, lighting yet another spliff, getting ready for the show he is about to get.

Elliot, meanwhile, eyes lustful and impossibly wide, has positioned himself on all fours, stroking his dick and anticipating his long-awaited share.

And he is not disappointed.

Tyrell turns out to be as skilled at leading as he is at being led (because yes, that too requires a certain skillset), maneuvering his fingers gently, but purposefully inside his lover, using the other hand to trail down naked flesh, stopping to grip the other’s thighs and ass cheeks, touching everywhere, feeling as good and confident about his abilities as he did moments ago with Leon’s dick in his mouth.

He kisses Elliot’s neck, which is damp with sweat, his whole body glistening, they are all so hot and sticky and it makes Tyrell moan as he whispers into the other’s ear: “I’m gonna put it in now.”, waiting for him to moan back in acknowledgement before he proceeds.

It’s a steady pace at first, picking up after a bit of adjustment, hitting all the right angles, making Tyrell feel good and grounded, until Elliot (still stroking himself, but not quite getting there) cries out and moves in Leon’s direction, throwing them both off balance.

It is soon settled though, as Leon dips his head to allow a frantic kiss from Elliot. Amusement dances around his lips when they part.

“You need a hand there, cuz? You stay throwing off the rhythm” He holds Elliot upright by his neck, jerking him off with his free hand, sending the other into a frenzy.

Tyrell should find this sexy. He does find it sexy. What kills it is the nagging feeling of neglect worming itself into his heart while he struggles towards his own orgasm.

“Now look what you did” Leon scolds, picking up on the change of energy immediately and proceeds to move his hand from Elliot’s neck to Tyrell’s face, cupping it gently, putting his tongue inside, the gesture instantly reciprocated, the others hand at the back of his head, pressing their mouths together.

Tyrell feels lightheaded, grateful, happy, _giddy._


	2. Insecure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tyrell has to grapple with the aftermath of last night. Mr. Robot is in his feelings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I feel like this is quite canon typical behavior (think 309 but reversed) but if you are sensitive to the topic of domestic violence, please proceed with caution! You can still read the first half of the chapter safely (up until the dash)
> 
> So yea, enjoy this angsty buildup to what I promise you will be a smutty next chapter :)
> 
> PS pls let me know in the comments how you think Tyrell takes his coffee

Tyrell wakes up in a dark room, illuminated by the city’s streetlights, since nobody had bothered to draw the blinds. A quick glance tells him it is 3:30 in the morning and he is hit with the somber realization that this is it for him as far as sleep goes. He longs for his own bed, he longs for…

No. Not yet.

Checking the baby monitor provides a welcome distraction for a while. He still has trouble leaving his son alone for any time period, but the need to work, amongst other needs, has made him eventually capitulate and hire a nanny who is now on night shift, along with a trusted bodyguard.

Tyrell smiles at the image of little Johann sleeping, peaceful and comfortable and wishes for it to stay this way for him forever.

And, selfishly enough, he wishes for even a fraction of that for himself.

It’s not like he didn’t have a good time – he’d had a fantastic time, in fact, beyond the physical intimacy, being with friends like that, close to each other and at ease, even now it creates a warm feeling in his heart. Tyrell has always been an outsider. These kinds of experiences are all so new to him. The only time he would go out it would be for work, to achieve a goal or to impress somebody. Nobody ever got to know the real him, save maybe Johanna, but Johanna is not here anymore and whatever advice she would give him right now, he knows that the man who would’ve been able to take it is not here anymore either.

He still talks to her, sometimes, in his head, familiar banter in a familiar language, but she is fading now and even though nothing will ever replace what they had, he has chosen to live and it is a choice he stands behind.

If living just wasn’t so goddamn hard all the time.

After the trio had satisfied one appetite, they had moved on to the next, sharing deli sandwiches and coffee, creating even more of a mess on the big bed. Tyrell had watched in shock as Elliot downed black coffee, having witnessed Mr Robot pour sickness inducing amounts of sugar in his cup, topping it all off with a hefty dose of whipped cream.

“I like my coffee like I like my men, pale and sweet.” He’d explained with a wink, making Tyrell cringe as he carefully dropped some almond milk into his own cup.

But this was Elliot, evident in so many little hints and by now Tyrell knew them both so well that there was no mistake who was who, even though there were apparently still little things to be discovered.

Tyrell smiles a rueful smile. He misses that shameless bastard.

After food and conversation they had snuggled in to watch cartoons, too high for anything else, Leon sprawled out with his head leaning against Elliot’s chest, who was cradling him in his arms like something precious, caressing the other’s naked arm, randomly dropping kisses on his cheek or the top of his head.

It had almost made Tyrell cry.

After a while Leon had asked if he wanted to join, but he’d declined, claiming to be hot. In reality, he had rarely felt colder.

These are his friends, yes. Elliot has evolved into something of a coparent. But none of it matters, Tyrell realizes yet again with bitterness, when you don’t have your person.

Whatever, sometimes he watches Greys Anatomy alone at night. Not the point.

The point is, he already has his person. The one to hold him in his arms, just because. Just him. The one who will volunteer to go down to the deli so he won’t have to get dressed (Tyrell had to roll his eyes at this rare sight of Elliot the gentleman), but the smile on Leon’s face was enough to know that it didn’t matter. Nothing matters when one person is your whole world.

Tyrell knows this, because for the longest time now, Mr Robot has been that for him. And now he has betrayed him.

One could of course argue the definition of betrayal, when him and Elliot share the same body, are technically the same person.

But deep-down Tyrell knows this is a copout. It is Robot who fills the emptiness in his heart (and elsewhere). It is Robot who holds him for hours, who challenges him because he knows all his strengths and weaknesses and wants to bring out the best in him.

How is he just realizing this now? This man literally only comes out for him these days, is as dedicated to protecting him as he is to Elliot and Tyrell just threw this all away because it wasn’t enough, he wanted, needed everyone else’s approval too.

Tyrell is ready to cry again. He feels so alone, knowing that he is in the one place where Mr Robot will never appear. (His job is to protect Elliot, but since apparently he feels safest with Leon, Mr Robot never interrupts their time together. Yet another reason why Tyrell, too, should probably have stayed the fuck out of their space)

Within five minutes he has fled the motel.

-

“If you wanted so bad to get away from me, you coulda just asked. I will gladly fuck off and leave you to your devices, let’s see how long your crybaby ass will last all alone in the big, big, scary world.”

Tyrell ducks his head and swallows, no wind left in his sails, just wishing for it to be over. They have been at it for hours now, Mr Robot pacing the living room, stopping periodically in front of Tyrell to deliver more insults to his face, close enough that “spitting fire” becomes literal, and Tyrell just leaves it there, doesn’t move, doesn’t even let himself cry, chewing on the inside of his bottom lip and following Robot with his eyes.

“So now you can’t open your fucking mouth? Heard you put it to good use yesterday though, didn’t ya?”

Tyrell’s eyes widen at that and Mr Robot scoffs.

“I am part of his mind, you keep forgetting that _sweetheart.”_ He spits the pet name in his face with so much venom that Tyrell feels sick. “Everything he experiences, I have access to, if I really want it.”

“I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just wanted to…”

“To do what, exactly? Give your pathetic little life meaning by getting as many people to fuck you as you can, calling it love? You crave intimacy so bad, you are so deprived that you have to impose on a perfectly happy couple, because you cannot fathom the thought that somebody doesn’t love you, you with your suits and your blood money and _…”_

“Come on, just admit that you’re jealous so we can…”

Tyrell’s gaze is still on the floor, which is why he doesn’t see the next move coming: Mr Robot lunges at him with the force and madness of a slighted lover, drunk on his jealousy and too proud to ever admit it.

He thrusts Tyrell into the wall with a strength his body shouldn’t possess, but his rage gives him momentum and just like that he has the other pinned firmly by the throat, a position vaguely familiar from more intimate encounters in the past, but there is nothing intimate about this. In fact, Tyrell cannot remember there ever being a bigger distance between them.

It is this, out of all of the things, that hurts him the most.

“Oh, are you finally gonna cry, like the little bitch that you are? Watch them all abandon you because nobody can stand how _needy_ you are. “

With that, Mr. Robot drops him and marches out of the room.


	3. Apologetic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mr Robot messed up. Will they be able to work it out?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The conclusion to this three parter (my fav chapter tbh. but maybe just cause im a hoe for hurt/comfort)
> 
> And yes, domestic!Tyrell wears cardigans at home. Cashmere, of course. I am claiming this as canon

Tyrell clutches his coffee mug, not daring to look up at Elliot, even though he knows it’s not him he is avoiding, but still, they are the same person aren’t they and that is the whole reason for this mess anyway, and…

“Are you trying to murder the coffee with your looks?”

Elliot’s monotone voice jerks him out of his thoughts. He cannot help but still be amazed at how different it sounds from Mr Robots, his always accentuated with a smirk and hiding sarcasm and puns he doesn’t understand between the lines, and love, so much love…

“I’m gonna go kick it with Leon for a while before he has to leave today, but I think Mr Robot will want some of your time later. Seems like he really messed up this time”

Elliot shrugs and keeps his facial expression neutral, but he cannot fully hide the amusement underneath. After all, Leon and him never, ever fight (how is that even possible? Something about being on the same wavelength, Leon once explained, but Tyrell suspects it has more to do with constantly being high) and Elliot chalks up all their problems to Tyrell and Robot being massive drama queens.

“Well, we both messed up, but he was the one who decided to escalate it” Tyrell replies dryly. “And stop looking so smug about it, this was your fault too!”

Elliot cannot help the laugh that escapes now, as he grabs his backpack and heads out the door to what they both know will be a chill, pleasurable and drama free day. “I’ll tell Leon you said hi!”

And that’s it. Tyrell is left to his cold coffee and anxious brooding.

Thank god he has a baby to take care of.

The day is spent with feeding, diapering, and holding his little wonder, something that never fails to ground him, let him know that whatever else happens he will never again truly be alone or without purpose.

Still, his stomach is in knots by the time he hears the keys in the door turn, Johann having been asleep for the past hour, giving Tyrell’s nervous thoughts more than enough time to spiral.

The door opens. It’s him.

Mr Robot opens his mouth but before anything can come out, Tyrell has already darted up the stairs on instinct.

He is curled up on the bed with his head buried in a pillow when he hears a soft knock on the door.

“Tyrell. Can I come in?”

No response. He simply can’t.

“Please. We need to talk, and you know it.”

Mr Robot sounds and looks exhausted when he lets himself in with a sigh, but Tyrell is still unable to move or react.

Truth is, he is scared.

“You’re gonna have to talk to me at some point.” No, he doesn’t. “We are both adults we can’t just go on avoiding each other.”

Oh yeah, right. Adults.

Tyrell thinks about his son asleep in the other room and finds the courage to sit up next to Mr Robot who has planted himself on the bed with more care than is usual for him, making Tyrell feel like hunted prey being cautiously approached. He stares stubbornly on the carpet at his feet.

Mr Robots voice is incredibly soft. “Sweetheart…look at me.”

Tyrell refuses, tears already burning in the back of his skull, anger worming its way up to his conscious, readying itself to form words and command actions.

“Look, I fucked up, okay. I flipped on you, and that wasn’t fair, I shoulda kept my composure, shoulda talked it out with you, but…”

“Well you didn’t, did you? Should we go through all the things you chose to do instead? Like put your hands on me and accuse me of things you know I…” His voice breaks, fury and hurt flooding out of it, not even hitting a target, just a flimsy attempt at putting up walls. He knows it will not work.

Robots hands are on him, another stark contrast to Elliot, with his high regard for personal space. His alter ego on the other hand, takes whatever he wants, grabs it, and forces it to deal with him, something Tyrell has always loved, the way he doesn’t have to take the first, or any steps at all. Just let himself be taken.

Even now he loves it, because it means that he doesn’t have to decide whether to forgive or how to act at all, he is forced to steady his breath against his partners shoulder, listen to the words that are precalculated to manipulate him.

And it is comforting. Almost. Until he inhales the scent embedded in the fabric of black hoodie. It smells like weed and it smells like Leon.

Tyrell draws back sharply, practically crawling off the bed away from the other man. “You have the _nerve_ to say all these things and then you come back, and you smell like him, but I am the bad guy, yes? You are…you are…” he searches for an English word and comes up short, ready to turn this tirade into a Swedish symphony, when Robots face changes, from apologetic, to angry to _hurt._

“I did not touch him. Elliot did. But I love you. Elliot doesn’t.”

The words are so strained and packed with pain that Tyrell expects him to leave right away, braces himself for the loneliness and torture of being trapped in a room with nothing but one’s own anger, need and desperation.

Instead, Mr Robot steps over and straddles him in one swift motion, taking his head into his hands and bringing their foreheads together.

“Elliot loves me too.” Tyrell whispers meekly.

Robot sighs. “I know that, sweetheart” Tyrells heart involuntarily jumps at the pet name, making him relax slightly into the others touch.

“But he loves Leon, too. And you love your son. But I have no one else but you.”

Tyrells considers protesting, since they are all free to love little Johann as well, but deep down he understands the true meaning behind the words. He feels his resolve melting and draws up a last defense.

“It’s still not okay what you did. How you reacted. I understand that you were hurt, I really do but…”

“No.” He is cut off sharply. “Do not absolve me off this shit. Do not dare”

Tyrell frowns in confusion. “Is that not what you want? What then?”

“Let me make it up to you.” Robots voice is low as he finally forces their eyes to meet and Tyrell knows he is done for. “Let me apologize to you. Properly. Let me show you…” He brings their lips together and Tyrell can all but whimper. “How…fucking…sorry… I…am” His lips trail down, every word accentuated with kisses across his jawline, until he reaches Tyrells left ear and whispers. “How much I adore you. That I know how much of a jerk I am. How I fucked up. “

His hot breath makes Tyrell shiver and he briefly ponders how this turned from the other man apologizing, to him on the floor all but begging for dick until Mr Robot asks him again “Will you let me make it up to you, sweetheart?” and trails his tongue along his outer ear. Tyrell lets out a “yes” that turns into a moan that turns into a whisper.

“You know very well that I will let you do anything when you touch me like that”

Robot considers this for a moment but finds he cannot really deny it and just shrugs before he gets to work on the buttons of Tyrells cardigan.

“Yeah, sorry about that sweetheart. But I’ll make it worth your while.”

It is only because Tyrell knows at least this part to be true that he lets himself be gently peeled out of his remaining clothes and pushed to lay on his back on the pastel blue plush carpet. The uncharacteristic gentleness of it all confuses him, though it is not unwelcomed, the way he is being handled with care, slowly and lovingly. Maybe less prey, more like a rescued puppy. He’ll take it.

Mr Robot is still fully clothed when he unpacks the other mans dick like a present, tending to it with slow, firm strokes, while his lips plant kisses along his neck. Apologetic kisses, Tyrell realizes, each one saying “I’m sorry” over and over again. “He will do this until I forgive him”, he realizes, every touch an apology, every kiss a promise to do better, every caress an acknowledgement of hurt caused.

It is too much, suddenly. If they both messed up, then shouldn’t they both be doing this to each other? But Tyrells sudden movements and attempts at giving back are firmly rejected, Mr Robot seemingly fully aware of their intentions as he gently pins the other’s wrists over his head.

“None of that, gorgeous. Let me be the bad guy here” He sucks on his earlobe after this, another apology, and at the use of his favorite pet name Tyrell finally lets loose, moans and sobs at the same time, dick twitching in the others grip. 

He tries to fight, he really does. Tries to regain control of his senses, to protest that nobody is “the bad guy”, that they just need to talk it out like adults, because isn’t that what he said himself earlier, and…

He must’ve somehow missed his companion moving his face away and positioning it right by Tyrells dick, although he is not sure how one misses such a momentous occurrence.

“What are you…you can’t…” He is stammering, mind blank, because he sees that smirk that comes through despite all the somber and apologetic air, like sunshine after rain, and it says “is that a challenge?” and Tyrell knows even before hot lips close around him that this is really happening, this has been the plan all along, the last stop on Mr Robots grand apology tour, to give him something new and intimate in a way that will leave him even more lovestruck than he thought was possible.

It really is not fair.

Mr Robot does not break pace, keeping it slow and driving Tyrell out of his mind, writhing, whimpering and begging until he has to be pinned down and if he was not so far gone already he would slap the shameless amusement out of the others face as he says “Easy there, gorgeous, we gotta drag this out at least a little bit.”

He does, however, make due on his earlier promise to make it worth his while, paying thorough attention not only to Tyrells dick but all surrounding body parts, cupping his balls, massaging his inner thigs and ass cheeks, all so careful, so impossibly gentle that Tyrell has tears streaming down his face by the time he is ready to burst.

Mr Robot comes back up one last time then, kissing the tears away, careful not to touch his lips, as he knows this would be enough to send the other over the edge.

“Been so patient for me this whole time…so good” He strokes his hair and Tyrell shudders under the touch and the praise. “Thank you for being so…” He licks a trail of tears across the side of his face, a risky move and Tyrell does his best to hold it together, as it is now becoming dizzyingly clear what last surprise awaits him at the end of this.

“…understanding, even when I don’t deserve it.” His voice is dangerously low and sweet, albeit sincere and Tyrell can only helplessly whimper, at last forced to hear the other out without a chance of protest. But once again, Mr Robot is making it worth his while, never taking anything without offering something in return.

“Ready to cum now, gorgeous?”

Tyrell feels incapable of speech, but he knows how this game works.

“Yes” he answers hoarsely, and for once he gets away without having to say “please”.

Mr Robot slowly makes his way back to Tyrells dick, covered in precum and his own saliva, regards it for a moment as one would something precious. “Definitely prey” Tyrell thinks and then he cannot think anymore, because those lips are back on him and it takes only a second to let it all go and let himself be worshipped in the way he usually does for others, as Mr. Robot swallows him, moaning as if this is all he has ever wanted to do and for this moment Tyrell lets himself believe this to be true.

-

“Let me…”

“No.”

“But why…just let me. You can’t sleep like that”

“I am not going to” Mr. Robot detangles himself from under his lover, whom he all but threw on the bed, his former gentleness replaced by the natural state of brisk movements and carelessness.

“ _You_ will sleep, and I will take care of the baby and let Elliot do whatever else he had planned for tonight.”

“That probably did not involve sucking my dick.” Tyrell thinks to himself, but exhaustion keeps him quit. He closes his eyes and feels Mr. Robot shift close to him on the bed.

“Tyrell…” He swallows at the mention of his name. This is never good.

But Mr. Robot simply says, “I’m sorry.” and kisses him on the forehead.

Tyrell nods and sighs in relief, eyes still closed. The stress of the day is taking its toll and he wants to rest in the knowledge that he is loved and cherished and taken care of by somebody who might mess up but will stop at nothing to make it up to him.

“Goodnight, gorgeous.” He feels Mr Robots lips on his cheek before he places a blanket over him, again with that gentleness that Tyrell thinks he could get used to.


End file.
